


The Threads that Bind Us

by Silent_of_Spirit



Series: The Threads of Fate [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Gen, I don't know how else to tag this, I'm new to tagging on Ao3, More tags to come when I figure out what to tag, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, i hope you enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8613070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_of_Spirit/pseuds/Silent_of_Spirit
Summary: “We are all woven into the fabric of this world, da'len. Every thread has a place in the grand design, even if they cannot see it.”
“Has the world not shown us that we don't matter, Keeper? What place have we in a design that would see us destroyed?”
“The artist is the only one who can know what the final product will be. But tell me, da'len, what is the most important part of the tapestry?”
“The centerpiece.”
“Ah, and what of what lies behind and beside it? Do the threads there not matter? If not for them, the centerpiece would not exist, and yet they cannot see the importance of their place in the weave. Every life matters, just as every thread, and none of us can see where our place will be until the artist decides where we will fall.”
The Keeper pulled one of the threads taut, running a finger along the length stained with too many colors. It had no place in the unfinished tapestry before them, and yet she weaved it through, creating a shimmering eye for the halla in the forefront.
“Sometimes the threads that seem the most useless are the ones that have the greatest effect.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> "If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there."  
> -Lewis Carroll

There was nothing at first; a vast, dark chasm devoid of life, sound, or feeling. She could sense... herself at the very least, seeming to float through the yawning emptiness, and she wondered how she came to be here. But what was here? Who was she? There was nothing within her to say, aside from the very base of her consciousness. Her essence moved through the space, turning in the darkness to catch a glimpse of something to help her piece this together.

 

“Hello?” She tried to call out, but there was no sound. The dark world around her seemed to respond, a gentle pulse ruffling the edges of her consciousness. There were brief flashes of bright light, and the sound of screams in the distance, the scent of burning flesh and acrid smoke... gone just as quickly as they had manifested. Memories? Dreams? A trick of this dark place? She felt no fear, only a sense of a strange sort of detached curiosity.

 

_Hello?_ She called again, projecting the thought into the void. Again, a gentle pulse, but the images were instead flashes of lush forest, the smells of musky earth and pine filling her before they too were gone. The stillness between these occurrences was maddening, but the brief images that kept flashing around her were more so. She had so many questions, but didn't know what to ask.

 

_Who are you?_ She managed to conjure the question, spinning as the darkness was filled again with images, this time of a kindly looking woman sitting before a loom, humming softly as her fingers worked away at the emerging pattern in the cloth. She turned, as if sensing her presence, and smiled warmly. Something about her seemed so _familiar_ , but the image vanished. She was even more confused than before, every event causing more questions without answering any of her previous ones.

 

_What do you want from me?_

 

Hundreds of threads burst from her wispy form all at once, stretching forth into the chasm in all directions until their ends vanished into the darkness and all was still once more. They all seemed to tug at her simultaneously, almost sharply enough that she feared being torn apart between them.

 

_What do you want from me?_ She asked again, the thought taking on a sharp edge, the tone bitter with fear. The threads tugged at her more harshly, her thoughts clouding with the sudden panic shrouding them. She spun around, gaze sweeping over each thread desperately as they tugged harder still. It took every part of her being to keep from being ripped to pieces. She wouldn't be able to withstand this assault. She was going to lose a battle she didn't even know she had to fight. She was going to...

 

_There._

 

A tug, slightly more insistent than the rest. It pulled at her just a bit faster, just a bit harder, and she reached for it without a second thought, grasping it with every bit of power she had within herself. The darkness around her erupted into blinding green light at the contact, and the other threads retreated as if struck. Her thread coiled around her, guiding her through the great dark. The pace was slow at first, but it gradually increased until she felt as though she were flying through the darkness, a speed too quick to fathom. All around her were images springing to life, memories she never knew she had, filling her mind until she was sure she would burst from the volume. Still they came, flooding her mind and spirit, molding the life she had forgotten and very nearly left behind. There was a rush of air, and a brief moment of blinding pain startling enough to send a gasp tumbling from her lips.

 

She came awake slowly after that, groggy and confused, trying to piece together what had just happened. It left her swiftly, leaving her scrabbling for purchase within the confines of her mind in search of what eluded her. It was gone.

 

She opened her eyes slowly, a bone deep weariness settling within her. There was a fuzzy light, orange and flickering, but dim.

 

_A torch?_

 

As her eyes adjusted she noticed the unmistakable glint of light off of metal, and she blinked heavily, moving her gaze around the room as she tried to clear the haze from her mind. There were a lot of swords, and all pointed directly at her. It was only then she became aware of the heaviness on her wrists, the cold and rough metal scraping at her skin.

 

_What..?_

 

She didn't finish her thought, squinting at her left hand in confusion at the faint green glow that emanated from the gaps in her clenched fist. She turned it upward, slowly releasing her fingers until the glowing mark was revealed. Her heart began to pound in earnest, fear and dread creeping up her spine, setting the hairs on the back of her neck on end. As if in response, the mark flared to life, blinding her momentarily with its intensity and setting the feet of the guards around her shuffling nervously, panicked whispers just barely reaching her ears.

 

There was heavy footfall coming down the corridor, and her gaze snapped to the door not far in front of her the instant before it swung open, the force enough to make some of the wood crack as it slammed against the wall. Her eyes flicked to it for only a moment before moving back to the women who stepped in, more particularly the taller of the two and the door's assailant. She noted the rigidity of her posture, the firm press of her lips and the clench of her jaw, the way her fingers twitched on the hilt of the sword at her belt. Despite her obvious rage, she carried herself with the bearing of a leader, an observation made evident when she stepped forward and the guards sheathed their swords without a word or second glance.

 

The woman stalked around her like a large cat, predatory and threatening. She watched every move from the corners of her eyes, gaze flicking to the red head near the wall when the other passed behind. She listened for any change in footfall, anything to indicate that this might turn violent. Her nerves were on edge, and she could feel her heart pounding beneath her breast, uncertainty coiled within her as she tried to analyze every possible outcome and avenue of escape. The red head watched her with suspicion, almost as if she could see the line of thought in her mind.

 

She stiffened infinitesimally when the footfall stopped just to her left, heart pounding in her ears. She clenched her fists, tightening the muscles in her legs in preparation to leap up if the need arose. The woman leaned down, and she could smell the smoke and ash on her. “Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now.” Came the voice, the accent thick but the aggression in her tone unmistakable. This woman wasn't here to listen. She wouldn't care that her prisoner had no idea why she was here or what had happened. She wanted blame.

 

The prisoner said nothing, watching her carefully, waiting for the explanation she hoped would come.

 

“The Conclave is destroyed.” The woman said as she rose, unable to mask the tremor in her voice. She stepped around her until she was once more within line of sight, and the prisoner looked up at her, brows knit together in confusion. “Everyone who attended is dead.” She said next, fixing her with a pointed glare, “Except for you.” She punctuated each syllable with an accusatory finger, thinly veiled rage in her voice and plain in her eyes.

 

Her mind was well and truly spinning now, and she glanced to the floor, searching her memories desperately for some hint of understanding, mouth pressed into a thin line. There was nothing. The last thing she remembered was having a drink at the tavern with that Trevelyan man the night before the Conclave was supposed to meet. He wouldn't have drugged her... she would have figured him out in an instant if he'd even tried. Her memory was empty between the drinks and when she woke up in the cell, and she was suddenly very afraid. All those people, dead, and possibly at her hands?

 

_Why can't I remember?_

 

The tall woman must have taken her silence as belligerence. Her left arm was grabbed harshly above the iron cuff and thrust in front of her face. “Explain this.” She hissed as the mark flared to life, casting a sickly green glow around the chamber. The prisoner's eyes were glued to it, as if some force wouldn't let her look away. Her mouth felt dry, and she suddenly remembered she should speak, the situation quickly traversing past the point where she would be able to get away.

 

“I-I don't know.” She finally stammered, her voice hoarse from disuse. “I don't know what that is.” She met the woman's eyes, desperately hoping she would see the truth there. She watched the anger flare in response, her arm unceremoniously dropped as the woman lunged for her.

 

“Liar!” She screeched, and the prisoner flinched in expectation of a blow that didn't come.

 

“We need her, Cassandra!” Came a different voice, the accent soft and unmistakably Orlesian. She looked up. The red-head held the other woman back- Cassandra, she reminded herself- looking over her shoulder at her with narrowed eyes. Cassandra stepped back with a huff, the other woman turning slowly and crossing her hands behind her back. “Do you remember what happened?” She asked gently, no accusation in her tone. She still watched her with narrowed eyes, but her demeanor was distinctly less unfriendly and the prisoner let out a small breath of relief.

 

“No.” She started to say, but was interrupted by brief flashes in her mind's eye. She clung to them, looking for clues. “Wait,” She said softly, and the red head straightened, Cassandra turning back to look. “I remember... running. Things were chasing me.” The screeches of spiders seemed fresh, the feeling of panic from the memory washing over her. “I was climbing and then... a woman?” The figure of light was bright in her memory, a ray of hope when she had thought to be dead.

 

“A woman?” The red-head asked incredulously, crossing her arms.

 

“She reached out to me.”

 

_Take my hand, child._ The woman of light had said. And she did, without hesitation. In that moment she trusted her more than she had ever trusted anyone. Cassandra interrupted her reveries when she spoke again, taking a step forward.

 

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana.” The prisoner's eyes snapped to the red- head. Leliana? Could it be the same one?

 

_Ellania..._

 

“I will take her to the rift.” Came Cassandra's voice, and she looked up to find the piercing gaze upon her. Leliana gave a nod before turning and walking out, her form disappearing behind a turn in the hall. Cassandra knelt down, producing a key and beginning to unlock the shackles.

 

“What did happen?” She asked hesitantly, and Cassandra's hands froze for a moment before returning to her task. The cuffs fell to the ground with a metallic clang, and her wrists were now ensconced in biting rope instead, Cassandra grabbing her arm and helping her rise.

 

“It will be easier to show you.” Came the response, and she was sure she could detect a slight hint of apology in the tone. She was led down the hall, glancing at the cells lining it, all empty. Their journey was made in silence, Cassandra looking back occasionally as if checking she was still there, and then they ascended a set of stairs and found themselves in the heart of a Chantry. She wondered at it for a moment before remembering to stay near Cassandra, lest she be reminded in an unfriendly way.

 

The great doors at the end swung open before they reached them, and she had to momentarily shield her eyes from the glare when they stepped outside. Cassandra had stopped, eyes fixed on something in the sky, and she forced herself to look, squinting against the brightness. She wished she hadn't. Dread had gripped her like a vice, and she sucked in a shuddering breath against the sudden tightness in her chest. She couldn't take her eyes from it, the massive hole in the heavens. It pulsed, the sickly green light exactly the same as the one from her hand. She could feel her heart pounding behind her ribs, hard and fast and _afraid_.

 

“They call it the Breach.” Cassandra said, eyes still fixed on the monstrosity. “It is a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour.” She turned back, taking a few steps toward her prisoner. “It is not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” She could feel the rope biting her, leaving stinging marks, the palm of her hand beginning to itch insistently, but still she could not tear her eyes away. She hoped, desperately _wished_ , that whatever had caused it had not been from her. She couldn't bear to think of the suffering, the death, the innocents caught in the crossfire.

 

_Why?_

 

“An explosion can do that?” She finally said, voice trembling slightly as she looked back to Cassandra. The woman took another step forward.

 

“This one did, and unless we act the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

 

There was another pulse, larger than the last, and she was suddenly blinded by pain, falling to her knees as the mark flared in her palm, feeling as if it were burning every nerve in her body. She cried out, clutching at her wrist desperately in an effort to abate the searing pain. There were hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and she clenched them shut, willing them away.

 

Cassandra knelt before her, doubt, fear, anger, and pity all present in her gaze. “Every time the Breach expands, so does the mark on your hand.” She forced her eyes open to look at her, the pain gradually ebbing away to a dull ache. “And it is killing you.” Cassandra added, and the prisoner had to swallow thickly against the lump in her throat.

 

_Fitting_. She thought bitterly.

 

“It may be the key to stopping this, but we haven't much time.” Cassandra said, searching her face for a response.

 

She had so many questions, but the woman was right, there wasn't time. People were suffering, the Breach was growing, possibly making more rifts, and how could people defend themselves against demons? Fear was rank in the air, terrified whispers and crying children filling the eerie silence of the village. It had to stop.

 

“I understand.” She whispered, gaze on the mark on her hand. She clenched it into a fist, closing her eyes briefly before looking at Cassandra. “I'll do what I can. Whatever it takes.”

 

Cassandra's eyes widened, brows raising in surprise. “You will?”

 

“People are suffering. This cannot continue.” Her gaze moved over the village, the cowering populace. “I don't know what I can do, or how I can help, but I will try.” Her gaze moved back to Cassandra, the confusion writ clear on her face.

 

“What is your name?” She asked softly.

 

“Liahra. Liahra Lavellan.”

 

Cassandra nodded once, hooking a hand in Liahra's elbow and helping her to her feet. She placed a hand between the elf's shoulder blades, guiding her down the path through the village. On all sides were tents and dirty faces, nearly all of which were turned upon her with hostility and blame.

 

“They have decided your guilt.” Cassandra spoke, taking in the glares around them. “They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers.” Liahra could hear the pain in her voice, noticing the way Cassandra clenched her jaw, looking ahead at the path instead of the mourners around them. A friend, then?

 

They continued in silence, walking through the gates and up a side trail into the mountains. “It was a chance for peace between mages and templars.” She finally spoke again as a gated bridge came into view, the path before them worn down by thousands of pilgrims' feet. “She brought their leaders together, and now they are dead.”

 

The great wooden doors before them swung open, the sight beyond of chantry sisters rushing to tend to the wounded on cots all over the bridge, guards looking at the Breach with wary eyes. Cassandra led her onto it.

 

“We lash out like the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, as she did.” The raw emotion in her voice sent a pang of pity through Liahra, despite the harsh treatment earlier at her hands. Could she say she would not have done the same, in her shoes? Cassandra suddenly stopped and turned, looking the elf in the face as she drew a knife. “There will be a trial.” She said simply, reaching for Liahra's wrists and sawing at the rope that held her bound. “I can promise no more. Now come, it is not far.”

 

Liahra rubbed gently where the ropes had bitten her, following Cassandra in silence. Answers could come later, she knew, though she wondered why the woman had decided to cut her bonds. She could easily run, leap over the side of the bridge to the ice below and take off into the snow. She was a master tracker, and would find her way. Surely the woman couldn't trust her after already deciding her guilt? Liahra wouldn't have trusted the word of a stranger, especially one who was their only suspect, regardless of their intentions.

 

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.” Cassandra said over her shoulder, heading toward the far gate at the other end of the bridge. Liahra jogged to keep up, falling into step beside her. “Open the gates! We are headed into the valley.” Cassandra called to the guards. They exchanged a look with each other before obeying, pushing the great doors open to reveal the path ahead.

 

There was flaming debris on each side, hot and smoking and filling the air with ash. Liahra coughed once, but set off up the path with Cassandra close behind. She tried not to look at the Breach, eyes fixed squarely on the path in front of them. She didn't want to think about the fact that this might be her fault. She didn't know how, and she didn't know _why_ she would do something like this, but all of the evidence pointed to her, to her mark.

 

The Breach pulsed again and she tumbled forward, once again consumed by agonizing pain. She clutched her hand to her stomach, gasping for air and trying to see through the haze of tears. It faded slowly again, and she looked up only when it had receded to a dull throb. Cassandra helped her struggle to her feet, clapping her on the shoulder gently. “The pulses are coming faster now.” Liahra narrowed her eyes and set to walking again, rubbing her hand silently.

 

“The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

 

Liahra let her gaze travel once more to the hole in the sky. “How did I survive the blast?” She asked softly, dropping her gaze to the earth beneath her feet as they walked.

 

“They say you stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious.” Came the reply behind her, tone laced with disbelief. “They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.” Cassandra increased her pace, stepping past Liahra toward the next bridge ahead. “Everything further in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes.” She paused and looked back. “But I guess you shall see soon enough.”

 

There were soldiers on the bridge ahead, running across to the far path into the valley. The Breach was closer, massive and looming in the sky, and Liahra once again forced her gaze away. There was a flash of green light then, arcing through the sky and striking the stones in front of them, blasting the bridge apart. She and Cassandra were sent flying, rolling off of stones and debris to the ice of the river beneath. She pushed herself up, struggling for breath as Cassandra leaped to her feet, sword drawn and shield at the ready.

 

“Stay behind me!” She called, rushing forward to the shade that Liahra only just saw. It roared, launching itself at the woman's shield. Liahra scrambled to her feet, staring in horror at the bubbling black goo not far in front of her feet. She could see a shape forming, and she looked at the debris around her, searching for something to defend herself with. She launched herself at a nearby crate, pulling the worn bow into her grasp and nocking an arrow as she turned. She loosed it just as the creature finished forming, arrow blasting it between the eyes and sending it to the ice in a crumpled heap before it disintegrated with a mournful screech. There was a similar screech not far ahead, and she looked up in time to see Cassandra's sword thrust through the creature's face.

 

Liahra pushed herself back to her feet, looking around for more shades, and seeing none. She stepped forward toward Cassandra. “It's over.” She breathed, chancing a shaky smile that was quickly dashed as Cassandra lifted her weapon to the elf.

 

“Drop your weapon.” She ordered, eyes angry over the raised sword. “Now!”

 

Ah, there was the suspicion again. Liahra held the bow out, making a show of lowering it to the ice. Cassandra's eyes followed the motion before she sheathed her sword.

 

“Wait.” She said softly. “I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless.” Liahra froze, then carefully raised herself to her full height in case the woman changed her mind. “I should remember you agreed to come willingly.” She said before turning and heading toward the path ahead.

 

There were two more shades ahead, quickly dispatched between the two of them. She was surprised they did not have more to face, considering the closeness of the Breach now. There was a lot of ice to cross, and Liahra found herself trying not to slip in the clunky human boots, nearly deciding to toss them away before she remembered that they were not hers to do so. She looked up from the ice at Cassandra's shout of alarm, narrowly dodging a green bolt of magic that flew just past her ear. There were five demons ahead, and a stairway up the hill just beyond.

 

No avoiding them, then. She nocked an arrow and let it fly, cursing under her breath when the green demon easily drifted just out of its path. All of the demons were fixated on Cassandra, the two shades assaulting her shield as she tried to dodge the green bolts from the other three. Liahra nocked another arrow. She got it this time, watching its misty form dissipate, running forward to get the other two in her sight. She got the next one first try, dropping to the ground as she drew that last one's attention and dodging the bolt it threw. She rolled and pushed herself to her feet, loosing another arrow and turning to the shades when it met its mark. Her next arrow slew one shade just as Cassandra's sword plunged into the other, and it was done.

 

Cassandra looked back, nodding once in appreciation before running toward the stairs. Liahra followed and paused at the unmistakable sounds of battle ahead. “Who's fighting?” She asked over the din, and Cassandra glanced back.

 

“You'll see soon. We must help them.”

 

They both ran up the remaining stairs, Liahra's bow at the ready. She froze as they rounded the corner, shocked gaze fixed on the distortion in the air, crackling and turning in on itself, green crystals protruding from the mess.

 

_Is that...?_

 

“Come, we must try to close the rift!” Cassandra yelled, rushing past her and jumping down the small ledge into the fray. Liahra edged closer, letting instinct guide her shots as she glanced at the rift. It was _unnatural_ and she couldn't look away, and the mark in her hand buzzed the closer to it she moved. There was one last dying screech, and then she found herself being pulled by her arm, hand shoved in the sky toward the rift.

 

“Quickly! Before more come through!” Came the voice from beside her, and her mark flared to life in response. There was a tether between her hand and the swirling distortion before her. She could feel it pulling at her, as if testing, before it yanked and she stumbled slightly before righting herself. She honed in on that tether, trying to focus on the strange magic in her palm before experimentally pulling back. She felt the struggle on the other end, and so she did it again, harder, a bead of sweat popping up on her brow. She focused harder, squeezing her eyes shut as she _yanked_ , taking a solid step backwards, and then it was done. The struggle was gone, and when she opened her eyes, so was the rift.

 

She stared down at her hand in amazement, looking to Cassandra off to her right, eyes wide. She turned to the man who had grabbed her, clenching and unclenching her hand. “What did you do?” She asked as she looked up at the tall elf.

 

“I did nothing,” He said simply. “The credit is yours.”

 

She looked back at her hand. “You mean this, I assume?” She queried, eyes narrowing at the shimmering green crack along her palm. What was happening? _Why_ did she have control over these rifts?

 

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand.” The elf explained, “I theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts opened in the Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct.” He held his hands humbly in front of himself, but the slight smile at the corner of his lips betrayed his pride in himself at the confirmation. Cassandra stepped forward, voice hopeful.

 

“Meaning, it could also close the Breach itself?”

 

“Possibly.” He answered, turning his gaze back to Liahra. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

 

Her mind spun, questions filling every free space in her mind, and she wished again that she knew just _what happened_. The gaps in her memory were driving her to madness, and with every new occurrence she was growing more frustrated with it all.

 

She turned at the sound of another voice, low and gravelly, to see a dwarf holding a magnificent crossbow. “Good to know.” He said casually, as though they hadn't just fended off a group of demons and discovered the secret to closing rifts. “Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever.” She couldn't help but smile a little at that. He stepped forward. “Varric Tethras.” He said. “Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag along.” He winked at Cassandra behind her, and Liahra smiled again at the disgusted sound the woman made in response.

 

Wait, “Varric Tethras?” Liahra asked hesitantly. “Author of 'Tale of the Champion' Varric Tethras?”

 

“The one and only.” The dwarf said, smiling as he made an exaggerated bow. “Always a pleasure to meet a fan.”

 

“I never said I was a fan.” Liahra said, a smirk on her lips. She chuckled softly at the way he clutched his chest in mock injury.

 

“I brought him here to tell his story to the Divine.” Cassandra said sourly, fixing him with a level glare. “Clearly, that is no longer necessary.”

 

“And yet, here I am.” Varric shrugged nonchalantly. “Lucky for you, considering current events.”

 

“Well, it's a pleasure, Varric.” Liahra nodded to him, and he smiled disarmingly.

 

The elf's voice came from just behind her, “You may come to reconsider that statement, in time.”

 

“Pleasure's all mine. And don't worry, Chuckles, I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley.”

 

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra said as she strode forward, looking down her nose at the dwarf. “Your help is appreciated Varric, but-”

 

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric interrupted, looking up at her with a raised brow. “Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me.”

 

Cassandra groaned and walked away, and the tall elf stepped into view, watching her carefully even as he smiled. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

 

Just as she opened her mouth to reply, Varric again interjected. “He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'” Liahra looked back to Solas in surprise and gratitude, and possibly a little suspicion.

 

“You seem to know a great deal about it all.” She probed, watching how the corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. Cassandra jumped in this time.

 

“Solas is an apostate, well versed in such matters. But come, time is short. We have no time to waste on idle chit-chat.” Cassandra turned and walked down a snowbank, climbing over a short barrier to the path below. The gates ahead were blocked by rock and debris, and Liahra followed.

 

“So... do you have a name?” Varric asked after he had climbed over the barrier behind her. She glanced back for a moment before turning her gaze back to the rocky earth beneath her boots, trying to keep her balance.

 

“Liahra.” She said simply.

 

“You are Dalish, are you not?” It was Solas who asked, and she looked back to him.

 

“Have you come across my people before?”

 

“Indeed. I offered to exchange knowledge and was turned away for no other reason than superstition.” The way he said it made her bristle, but she clenched her jaw and moved forward. It was not the time or place for an argument with a stranger on such matters.

 

Varric looked between them, brows raised. “Now, now. Can't you elves just get along?” He teased, and she chuckled softly, letting air out of her nose.

 

“Demons ahead!” Cassandra called from in front, and Liahra had an arrow nocked before the others had even moved.

 

“Glad you brought me now, Seeker?” Varric called out, and they charged in. Liahra stood on the hilltop, the vantage point excellent for her purposes. The battle was over in short order and they continued on in silence, even Varric's strangely optimistic mood overshadowed by the ever increasing Breach in the sky. They came across two more packs of demons, dispatched in short order, and they continued.

 

“I hope Leliana made it through all this.” Came Cassandra's voice, quiet and uncertain.

 

“She's resourceful, Seeker.” Varric said, tone soothing.

 

Liahra's hand was itching again, buzzing with insistence, and when they crested the hill she saw why. There was another rift right in front of the gates, demons pouring from it and assaulting the unprepared guards there. She took off, bow ready, loosing an arrow at the demon holding one of the guards aloft. It disintegrated with a screech, the guard scrambling backward toward the gate in terror. She spun and shot at the others, the rest of their small party finally cresting the hill and joining the battle. There were more falling from the rift, and in a slight pause between the waves, she reached. The instant the tether formed, she pulled, not allowing any resistance from the other side, and it was done.

 

She took a deep breath, arm shaking from the effort of it.

 

“Sealed, as before. Well done.” Solas said, staring at the air where it had vanished. Cassandra was walking toward the gate, questioning the soldiers stationed there and their well-being.

 

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it's useful.” Varric said quietly, and she nodded in agreement, moving to where Cassandra stood by the gate. She pushed it open, striding onto the bridge with purpose, and Liahra could barely make out an argument as they approached three figures gathered around a table. One of them was Leliana, though another had his back turned to them and the third she did not recognize. The third rose as they approached, attired in Chantry garb.

 

“Ah, here they come.” He said with a sneer.

 

Leliana stepped forward, pinning the man with a glare before turning to them. “You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is-”

 

“I know who she is.” He hissed, staring Liahra down with barely veiled hatred. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this prisoner to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

 

The man who had their back to them when they approached spoke up, and it was one that was entirely familiar. “Wait, _this_ is your prisoner?” He asked incredulously. She looked over to see Westley Trevelyan standing with his arms crossed, usual tidy hair falling in disarray around his face. “You must be mistaken, Grand Chancellor.”

 

“Do you know her?” Leliana asked him, brow raised.

 

“We traveled to Haven together from the port in Ostwick, if you must know. Three days by ship, and four weeks on the road. She wouldn't have done this. There's no-”

 

“Enough!” Roderick yelled. “I will hear no more on it. Justinia is dead. We must elect a new Divine and obey her orders on the matter.”

 

Liahra looked between them all, then at the Breach. It was clear no one was in charge, and no one knew what path to follow. Her gaze snapped to the Chancellor. “We don't have that kind of time. The Breach is the most pressing issue at present, and I intend to see what I can do to stop it. Stand in my way and watch as it consumes you, or let me try.” She hissed, noting the look Leliana exchanged with Cassandra. If possible, Roderick's face grew more mottled and angry.

 

“You will not speak to me th-”

 

“Chancellor!” Cassandra barked. “She is right. We do not have time to stand here and debate. The Breach is growing, and with it, our chances of failure.”

 

As if to punctuate it, the Breach pulsed again. Liahra closed her eyes against the pain of her hand as it again flared, jaw clenched, but this time she did not fall. She breathed carefully through her nose until it passed, opening her eyes to find all of the others upon her.

 

“We have to go.” She breathed, and Cassandra nodded.

 

“Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.” She said, turning to set off across the bridge. Westley grabbed the scabbard that leaned against the wall beside him, and adjusted the bow on his back. He fell into step beside Liahra, looking down at her with eyes full of questions.

 

“I'll explain what I can if we live through this.” She whispered, eyes on the Seeker's back. He huffed but left it alone. They climbed the far hill and followed the sounds of battle beyond it, running past wearied soldiers and full cots of injured. She tried not to look at them; tried not to think that this could be her fault, that people were hurt and dead and terrified because of her.

 

“Another fade rift!” Solas called out, and again they battled, this time on scorched earth instead of ice. There were soldiers all around, the cries of battle deafening and the smell of ash and smoke and death filling the air. These demons seemed endless, wave after wave falling from the rift and impeding their progress toward it.

 

She ducked under swinging swords, sidestepped attacking demons, and leapt over an overturned wagon until the buzzing in her hand was insistent enough that she knew it would work. She reached for the rift, urging the tether to hurry as she watched a shade quickly approach.

 

_There._

 

She pulled with all of her might, screaming with the effort of it, and the sudden loss of the tether sent her reeling backwards, falling on her rear. She glanced up. The rift was gone, and with that she drew her bow and shot the demon before it reached her, taking a shaky breath. Around her, the fighting slowed until it ceased entirely, and a roar of victory rose.

 

“Sealed, as before.” Solas said, sounding quite impressed as he helped her to her feet. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

 

“Let's hope it works on the big one.” Varric said dubiously, looking at the sky. Westley nodded in agreement.

 

“Lady Cassandra!” Came a new voice calling out over the clamor. “You sealed the rift, well done.” Cassandra sighed and stepped aside, gesturing to Liahra. The man looked at her in confusion, then back to Cassandra.

 

“Do not congratulate me, Commander. This was our prisoner's doing.”

 

He looked back to Liahra, bowing his head slightly. “I hope they're right about you.” He said with some disdain. “We lost a lot of people getting you here.” She felt a sharp pang of guilt at that, eyes flitting to the ground.

 

“I hope they are too.” She said quietly, and his brow creased.

 

“We'll see soon enough, won't we.” He stepped forward and addressed Cassandra, pointing back at the rubble. “The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

 

Cassandra looked back to everyone. “Then we'd best hurry. Give us time, Commander.” She said and Cullen nodded.

 

“Maker watch over you, for all our sakes.” He said as he walked away, helping an injured soldier to his feet and walking with him back to the forward camp.

 

Liahra turned her face to the ruins of the temple ahead, fear once again settling within her. There was a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up to Westley who gave her a gentle shove.

 

“You can do it.”

 

They approached. The earth here was even more scorched, charred bodies staring lifelessly into the sky, mouths open in silent screams. Her stomach turned. She could hear the others behind her, Varric whispering something to Cassandra. They entered a ruined corridor in the temple, more bodies strewn through the hall, and she forced her gaze away until they rounded the corner. There, in the ruins of the temple was a massive rift, at least ten times the size of the ones they had already faced, and looming above was the Breach.

 

“You're here! Thank the Maker.” Leliana said breathlessly behind them. Liahra was still looking at the Breach, wondering how she was supposed to close it, dread creeping in ever further.

 

She distantly heard Cassandra barking orders, but she could not make out the words over the fear and apprehension in her mind. The Seeker stepped in front of her, and Liahra snapped out of her reveries. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?” Cassandra asked.

 

_No._ She wanted to say, to turn and run and never look back. So much was riding on this... on her, and she wasn't sure she could. “I assume you have a plan to get me up there?” She said instead.

 

“No.” Solas said, stabbing the dirt with his staff. “This rift was the first, and perhaps it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.”

 

Liahra nodded. “Then I suggest we find a way down.” She stepped carefully over ruined pillars and loose rocks, searching for an intact stairway or a shorter drop than what was currently being presented. As she stepped along, a booming voice echoed over the temple, setting her blood to ice. She knew the voice, but she could not place it.

 

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra called out.

 

“At a guess, the person who created the Breach.” Solas replied, and she didn't know why she felt such a surge of relief that he thought her innocent.

 

_Because even you are unsure of that right now._ Her brain supplied.

 

She continued around the temple, trying her best to ignore the way that voice set her hair on end and sent fear rippling through her. There was a strange red glow ahead, and as she rounded the pillar she heard Varric suck in a panicked breath.

 

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.” He hissed.

 

“I see it, Varric.” Cassandra snapped back.

 

“But what's it doing here?”

 

“The magic could have drawn upon the lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it.” Solas said carefully.

 

“Well, that's comforting.” Came Westley's voice from behind them.

 

Varric spat. “Bah! It's evil. Don't touch it.”

 

Liahra stepped even more carefully, avoiding every shard of red she saw on the ground.

 

“Stairs, here.” Westley called, and she turned to look where he pointed. They were mostly in ruin, but intact enough that they could descend. The instant her foot touched the earth at the bottom, the sky flared to life, muted images of light playing out before them. They all watched with wide eyes, Liahra's heart pounding as she heard Cassandra yell something. She was searching the images desperately, wondering if these were her lost memories, and then there she was. She watched herself burst through the doors, demanding an explanation for the scene in front of her. Then it was gone. Cassandra strode up to her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her to face the Seeker.

 

“You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she... was this vision true?” Cassandra demanded of her, but despite the images, her memory was still empty... though the vision proved her innocent. Her gaze snapped back to Cassandra.

 

“I don't remember. I don't know the truth any more than anyone here.”

 

She saw Cassandra's nostrils flare, but she turned away as Solas began to speak, clutching his staff and staring up at the rift in contemplation.

 

“Echoes of what happened here. The fade bleeds into this place.” He turned and faced them. “This rift isn't sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily.” He looked to Liahra when he spoke next, “I believe that with the mark, the rift can be reopened and then sealed properly and safely.” She pressed her lips together, but nodded. “However,” He added, “Opening the rift will likely attract attention from whatever is on the other side.”

 

“That means demons!” Cassandra called out to the soldiers around them. “Stand ready!”

 

Solas stepped aside and Liahra moved toward the rift, glancing behind her for a moment before reaching out. Every eye was upon her, and she fought back a shudder at the realization. She closed her eyes and felt for the magic in her palm. The tether did not form on its own this time, and so she coaxed it forward, pushing instead of pulling, guiding it with her intent until it reached the rift. The instant the tether touched it, it roared to life, the strange crystals shattering and tearing open a hole. A massive demon fell through, hitting the ground a force that shook them. There was silence and shock for an instant before it roared, and everyone seemed to remember all at once what was happening.

 

There were dozens of arrows loosed at once, the demon shaking them off and lunging after one of the archers. Cassandra shouted out, swiping her sword at a heavily armored leg and caught the beast's attention long enough for it to forget the archer. Around them was chaos, everyone trying to find gaps in the armor while dodging massive footfalls and crackling lightning that the beast conjured. It seemed to take an age, but finally they could see signs of weakness, and Liahra took advantage of the opportunity she saw.

 

The beast had fallen to a knee after a particularly savage strike from Cassandra's blade, and Liahra leapt from the small ledge she was atop, scrabbling for purchase on the creature's scaly back. She pulled herself up, stepping carefully and quickly while he was still downed, then drew her bow, aiming at the small spot between armored scales she saw on the back of its head. She released her arrow, and the creature fell with a deafening cry, sending her tumbling into the dirt. She scrambled to her feet and ran toward the rift, reaching out and pulling, fighting against the intense struggle from the other side. She could distantly hear yelling, but all of her energy was focused on her task. She could feel the sweat drip down her neck, every muscle in her body aching with the battle from the other side. She felt no give, and she pulled harder, feeling her body protest sharply.

 

A scream was wrenched from her throat, and she could feel it tear, began to see black spots in her vision, but still she fought and pulled, tears streaming down her cheeks. She would not let it win. She _refused_.

 

And then everything was black.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my fic :) This is the first time I've written and posted something I've written in years, so I hope you enjoy! I have a strong feeling that you will be in for a long ride if you choose to read this, but I genuinely hope you love it as much as I loved writing it!!
> 
> Sometimes I take canon and throw it out the window, and most elfy lore I use will be Origins elf lore, because I don't like the direction Bioware took in Inquisition with it.
> 
> Major thanks to Vesania94, without whom I probably never would have finished this, much less posted it! Give her love, she is so talented and sweet.
> 
> I don't know when updates will happen, as I am chronically ill and don't want to make a promise and not live up to it. Just know that I will update when I can, and I hope you will stick with me through the irregular updates!
> 
> Please remember to comment, it is literally my lifeblood! I hope you enjoyed!


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